


In The Wilds Of Scotland

by AgentOfShip



Series: AgentOfShip does Kink Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Early 1900, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feminist Themes, First Time, Grumpy Fitz, Inspired by Tarzan, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Scientist Jemma, Scottish version, Tarzan References, Tarzan and Jane - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, bingo square tarzan jane trope, kilt, kilt wearing Fitz, wild Scotsman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOfShip/pseuds/AgentOfShip
Summary: Since Cambridge University doesn't want to finance her expedition to Africa, Jemma Simmons decides to go deep into the forests of Scotland, her mind set on discovering new healing plants that will revolutionize the world of medicine. But the young botanist might find a lot more than she was expecting.





	In The Wilds Of Scotland

**Author's Note:**

> My very personal interpretation of the Tarzan Jane Trope :)  
> A huge thank you to @LibbyWeasley for being the best beta-reader ever <3

"Oh there you are! You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

Jemma looked around for a fallen tree or a stump that she could sit on, but it was all earth, moss, fallen leaves, and even more flowers.

"Oh well," she shrugged and sat directly on the ground, crossing her legs for practicality. She could almost hear her mother's voice in her head. "Jemma, this is no way for a lady to sit, and your dress is going to be disgusting. How are you ever going to find a husband if you keep acting like a little boy?"

Jemma shook her head in annoyance and took her sketchbook and pencil out of the very practical messenger bag her dad had given her before she left home. Science _was_ dirty and, fortunately, her mother was hundreds of miles away in London. And it wasn't like there were many potential husbands around. Not that she wanted one anyway. At least not one who would care about such trivial things. 

She turned the pages, smiling at the sight of all the flowers and plants she'd already been able to catalog, until she found a blank one. Then tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear, she tilted her head to the side and started drawing. She focused on the biggest and most developed of the flowers to render every detail of its petals, pistil and leaves, and then quickly drew the smaller ones, as well as the other more common flowers surrounding them. Jemma had great expectations for the medicinal properties of violets, and it was important to be comprehensive in her notes to make sure she had all the parameters for when she would start experimenting. When she was done, she added the date before closing her sketchbook and placing it back, along with her pencil, in her bag. Then she took one of her small cotton pouches out and plucked the three flowers from the ground, making sure to take as much of the root as possible. 

"So sorry to tear you away from your beautiful home but this is for science," Jemma said as she placed the flowers in the pouch and the pouch back in her bag. 

That forest really was quite beautiful, Jemma thought as she stood up and adjusted her clothes. Some trees were tall enough for her not to see the top and, in that season, flowers were sprouting from the ground everywhere with a variety of colors that was breathtaking. If the University of Cambridge didn't want to send her to Africa to find exotic plants, then she would make groundbreaking discoveries right here in the wilds of Scotland, and prove them all wrong. It had been a struggle getting into Cambridge in the first place and, despite finishing top of all her classes, the support of lovely old professor Randolph hadn't been enough for her to be allowed the grant she'd asked for. After all, what was the point of wasting money on a young woman when she would probably abandon it all once she'd found herself a husband and promptly gave birth to a ton of babies? Well, she would be the one to laugh at them when she becomes the greatest botanist in all of the United Kingdom. 

Realizing that she'd gotten lost in her head again, she took out her pocket watch and winced. It was four in the afternoon already, which meant that she would barely have the time to make it home before dark. Thankfully, her dad had conveniently forgotten to tell her mother there would only be a minimal staff at their country house, which meant that there was no time for her mom's spies to question what she was doing every minute of every day. She was free to leave the house however long she pleased and only had to face the old housekeeper's disapproving looks whenever she did, well, exactly what she came here to do. 

Adjusting her bag across her chest, Jemma started walking back at a brisk pace, only to stop ten minutes later. She didn't recognize that path or the tall tree almost blocking the way. Hmm. She went back a few hundred meters and tried a different path only to find herself back in the same spot. 

"Now that's ridiculous," she mumbled under her breath. She had always had a very good sense of direction.

Alright, the village was west of the edge of the forest, so considering the time of day, if she followed the sun, she would roughly get out of the forest on the right side and find her way from there. She looked up and sighed. Of course that would have been a perfect plan if it wasn't for the thick blanket of clouds completely obscuring the sky and making it impossible to see the sun. 

"Ugh! Come on, deep breaths Jemma, focus!" 

She wasn't about to call for help like a damsel in distress. Alright, maybe finding her way in London, when she could rely on her visual memory of this building or that one, was easier than in the forest. Maybe she had overestimated her sense of direction but she really did have an excellent memory, and if she cleared her mind and focused, Jemma was positive she'd manage to remember every time she changed direction or which flowers she saw and then, she would just have to do it all backwards. 

Taking a deep breath, Jemma closed her eyes. She found that it usually helped her concentrate. To find the violets, she'd had to climb uphill for a good fifteen minutes from that secluded little spot where she found thistles. Those she already had plenty to study, but they made excellent tea so she'd stopped to collect all she could carry in her bag. That one was easy. Before that, she'd stopped to gather bluebells at the foot of an enormous willow, and again before that, there had been… Oh no… Before that, she'd turned around in circles for at least an hour, trying to find a bloody patch of wild thyme she never found. Even if she found the bluebells, she'd never find her way from there. Bloody hell!

Jemma opened her eyes and instead of the tree she'd been facing earlier, now there was a man, standing only a meter away from her.

"Ahh!" she screeched, taking several steps backwards and almost tripped over a fallen branch. 

"Sorry," the man said in a heavy Scottish accent, sounding quite startled himself. "Didn't want to interrupt, you looked like you were praying or something…" 

"I wasn't praying!" she squeaked as she put her hand on her chest, taking deep breaths to try and make her heart stop beating so loudly and so fast. 

"Well, why were you whispering with your eyes closed?"

"I was thinking!" 

"Why d'you need to think with your eyes closed? You English are such nutters!"

"It helps me focus," she replied indignantly. "And why did you have to be so quiet? Like a-like a… cat… or whatever lives in that forest?" she finished, putting her hands on her hips with a feigned assurance. 

Once the initial fear had passed, Jemma realized the man wasn't quite as big as she thought at first and that, despite his shaggy red beard, he looked, in fact, very little like a bear. He was actually quite lean and not much taller than she was, but his clothes made her wonder how long he'd been in the forest. She hadn't seen a Scotsman wear such a voluminous kilt since his father had taken her to the Shetlands when she was a little girl. His boots were all muddy, his shirt had clearly seen better days and his hair was a tangled mess of sandy blond curls. 

"Well, I've just told you I didn't want to interrupt!" he cried out, holding out his hands in annoyance. 

"Alright! Fine! Fine," she said, her voice fading on the last word as she realized she might have been rude for no valid reason. 

They both looked at each other a little uncertainly for a moment. Maybe he, too, had just realized it was a very unusual and a potentially scandalous thing for her to be very alone with a strange man. 

He took a careful step back. 

"What are you doing here anyway?" he finally asked. "Aren't you allowed to think freely wherever you come from?"

Jemma didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry at the pertinence of his question.

"I'm here to collect plants, flowers and herbs to study them."

"And that requires a lot of closed-eye thinking?"

"Of course not! I was trying to remember which way I came from this morning."

"Oh. Are you lost then?"

"No!" she protested for some reason she didn't fully understand. And then carried on with her lie. "I'm just-I'm regrouping, making sure I use the most direct path."

"Oh. Alright then, good day to you," he said and just like that, turned on his heels and started walking away. Any other man would have offered to escort her anyway. He really had terrible manners. 

"Wait," she called after him as she got into a bit of run, trying to keep up with the man's brisk pace. He stopped and turned around to face her with an extremely annoyed expression on his face. He stood much closer to her than before and, oh, he had very pretty eyes. She wasn't sure a lady was supposed to call anything male related pretty, but they truly were pretty, bright blue and intense. Also, he didn't look as old as she had thought because of the beard. In fact he didn't look much older than she was, a year or two over twenty at the most. 

"Since you were offering, I don't mind you escorting me ba—"

"I didn't offer anything. I have better things to do," he said, frowning and looking at her like she was crazy again. She wasn't crazy, she wasn't the one looking like she lived in the woods and acting very ungentlemanly. 

"Oh," she said, doing her best not to sound disappointed. "Fine. Perfect. Good day to you then," she added, lifting her chin up, before turning around and starting to walk the other way. 

"Hey, crazy lady!" he shouted after less than a minute, and Jemma made it a point not to stop. She heard his freakishly light footsteps getting closer to her. "Hey!" he insisted, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to turn around. "If you're going back to Dallchaloch, it's the opposite direction!"

Jemma looked at his hand still on her shoulder with wide eyes, and he took it off immediately. It felt surprisingly strong, and warm, for such a scrawny disagreeable man. 

"I know," she lied again. "I was just- didn't want to impose my presence on you if you were going that way."

"Are you sure you're not lost?" he asked, his lips ticking up in a very annoying grin.

"Ugh. You have terrible manners, you know that, right?"

He shrugged. Of course, that made sense. Someone with terrible manners wouldn't care much if someone pointed it out, because he wouldn't know what an insult it was.

"Squirrels and trees usually don't complain about it," he replied before nodding his head in the direction he'd just come from. "So, do you want me to show you the way or would you rather wait for a proper English gentleman to come by?" 

Ugh, that grin again. It was making her blood boil. But she couldn't help snorting though, however inelegant it was for a lady.

"Every one I've ever met couldn't even find their way out of a map! But I wouldn't want to—"

"Oh, come on," he cut her off. "I'd feel responsible if you got eaten by a bear or something…" he trailed off and without waiting for an answer, he started walking. 

Jemma only hesitated for a second before sighing and hurrying up to follow him. 

"You were not serious about the bears, were you?" she asked when she reached his side.

"Yes, I was. They'll be just out of hibernation this time of year," he said, turning to look at her. "They'd eat anything, especially a… well fed, well educated lady like you!"

Jemma felt her cheeks grow hot under his gaze. She was absolutely scandalized by the meaning behind his words and she didn't like the way his eyes had stopped at her bosom for a second, or the glint in his eyes, one bit. No, she didn't like at all, but there was a small part of her that felt flattered by it.

She turned away from him and they walked in silence for a moment. Which was good because Jemma needed to focus on not tripping over anything with the fast walking pace he was imposing. She startled when there was some noise and movement in the trees behind them. 

"Tell me you were not being serious about the bears!" she whispered, and he sighed. 

"No, I wasn't. They don't come this close to the village anymore. Not with all the Londoner cunts coming to get themselves a trophy to impress the ladies!" 

He stopped and he looked at her with a barely hidden smirk that contradicted his words. "Sorry, I should probably not use that word in front of a lady, what I-"

"Oh that's alright, I know what you meant. I wouldn't call _them_ that but I think it absurd and cruel to kill an animal if it's not for eating. I would certainly need more than that to be impressed by a man," Jemma said, then flashed him a small satisfied smile when she noticed his cheek growing pink. "I'm Jemma Simmons by the way," she added extending her hand for him to shake. 

He looked down at it then back up at her face and shook his head for some reason. "Leopold Fitz," he said. "Please don't ever call me Leopold though," he added in a hurry, then took her hand, but instead of shaking it, bowed down exaggeratedly low and pressed a kiss on it with a slightly mocking smirk. She was tempted to remind him that it wasn't proper for a man to kiss a woman's hand if she wasn't wearing gloves, or to huff at his flippant attitude, but the sensation of his lips on her skin, even as brief as it was, sent an unexpected shiver up her arm. So she chose not to say anything but: "Nice to meet you, Mr Fitz." 

-0-0-0-

"Mr Fitz, how much longer do you think it will be to the village?"

"Very long if you keep walking so slowly," he replied and Jemma rolled her eyes at him, even though he couldn't see her. 

"I'm doing the best I can with the shoes I have!" she said, her voice high pitched and a little breathless as she tried to keep up with his fast pace.

He turned around to give her feet a confused look.

"Why would you even wear those shoes in the first place?" 

"Find me a shoemaker selling sensible women's shoes and I will gladly buy ten pairs!" 

"Oh. Right," he said, a little sheepish. "Well, why don't you go to a men’s shoemaker?" 

For a second, Jemma thought he was teasing her again, but his expression was sincere. It was almost sweet. 

"Do you live in those woods, Mr Fitz?" she asked, trying to hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. 

"Why do you ask?" he replied defensively.

"That would just explain a lot of things."

He squinted his eyes at her. "Well, that's not any of your business, is it?" he replied, then started walking again, even faster than before it seemed.

"Ugh! Why do you have to be so rude?" Jemma cried out. "I'm just trying to be nice and take an interest in you!"

"Well, there's no need for that, and nothing interesting to know about me," he shouted, not bothering to look back to reply. 

If Jemma learned anything about men from the excruciating hours she'd spent at balls and other boring social events designed for young women to find a husband, it was that they loved talking about themselves. So if this wild forest dweller of a man said there was nothing interesting to say about him, Jemma knew now with a complete certainty that it was in fact the exact opposite. 

Ten minutes later, the horizon cleared and Jemma wondered if they could have already reached the edge of the forest. She had been going around in circles quite a bit looking for certain plants, so she supposed it was a possibility. But after going down hill for a while, Jemma realized they'd only reached a small stream. Mr Fitz kept walking without a look back, took two steps into the water then carried on once on the other side. 

"Uh, Mr Fitz?" Jemma called out. He turned back, looking clearly surprised that she hadn't followed. "Those are not exactly made to go into the water," she said with an apologetic smile as she looked down at her feet. The stream was clearly too wide for her to try and hop over it and deep enough that not only her boots would get soaking wet, but also the lower part of her skirts. "Isn't there a bridge somewhere up or downstream? Or maybe a fallen tree that I could use to cross over?"

"Oh, for God's sake," he mumbled under his breath, sighed, then mumbled something else she didn't understand before crossing back to her side until he was in front of her, tilting his head to the side like she was some complicated problem he had to solve. She didn't have the time to say anything else, because, the next second, he crouched down, wound his arms around her thighs, then lifted her off the ground with an ease that left her gasping for breath almost as much as the gesture itself. 

"Mr Fitz! What are you doing?" she squeaked inelegantly as he marched back to the water and quickly crossed over once more. 

He looked up at her with that sparkle in his eyes again, and a smile that had something almost childlike in it, sincere and almost sweet. "I've just saved us an hour," he said before slowly letting her slide down until she reached the ground. Jemma had put her hands on his shoulders for balance, and she kept them there for a moment. She was very intrigued by the sensations provided by the closeness of his body and the presence of his hands now resting lightly on her waist. She'd already been in that position with men several times during balls, but she'd felt mostly bored and uncomfortable. This was- well she didn't know what it was, but it was different.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice a little deeper than before as he moved away from her. She hoped he wasn't catching a cold from having his feet in the water for so long because of her. She simply nodded and they started walking again. 

An interesting man indeed. 

-0-0-0-

"Why did you even need those flowers? Your bag's already full, didn't you have enough?" Mr. Fitz groaned as he jumped over a big fallen tree that Jemma had to walk around. She really missed the shorter dresses she wore when she was a little girl, that made her feel so much freer, even allowing her to climb trees and do everything the boys could do.

Jemma ran to catch up with him before answering.

"I told you, I'm studying them and I didn't have one of those yet," she replied, his grumpy mood unable to tamper down her enthusiasm. She was almost certain these flowers weren't in her books, so there was a chance they had some form of healing property that hadn't been discovered yet. 

"But why do you bother drawing them if you're taking them with you anyway? They're not even especially rare."

"Ugh!" Jemma groaned. "Maybe for someone like you, who's been raised in the forest, by wolves or—"

"Cats?" he proposed, a smirk pulling at his lips, and she rolled her eyes at him. Most men would have been insulted that she suggested they'd been raised by animals, but that seemed to amuse him somehow.

"Anyway, I wanted to go to Africa but they didn't want to allow it and certainly wouldn't have paid for it!"

"Who? Your mum and dad? Your mean husband?" he asked with a mocking tone she didn't like at all. He could be as rude as he liked but she wouldn't let him say she was just a spoiled child who just thought it'd be exciting and romantic to go to Africa. 

"Cambridge University. I'm not married, don't plan on it happening anytime soon, and I would never ask my parents to pay for something that would benefit the University," she said, her tone cold and as neutral as possible. If there was one thing her mum had succeeded in teaching her, it was how to hide all negative feelings. After all, a lady had to be pleasant at all times and not bother men with their unimportant worries. And as much as the idea annoyed her, it had become second nature to Jemma. And very few people had ever inspired any kind of passion in her anyway, except a few scientists that were either dead or too far away for her to even dream of meeting them. 

He stopped walking for a moment and turned around to look at her, raising his eyebrows in apparent interest.

"So that's why I also drew them. Things have to be seen in their natural habitat, and my research has to be as thorough as possible for them to even look at it. So they can finally see that I'm just as smart as everyone else there, and that I can be so much more than a teaching assistant. I could go to Africa and discover plants that would heal even the most terrible of illnesses."

Mr. Fitz just huffed in response and it felt like she'd been stabbed in the chest. She was awfully hurt by his reaction. More so than the hundreds of times someone else had reacted this way, and she felt stupid. She barely knew that man, but he was so different from any other she ever met that she thought, maybe, he'd think differently about that subject as well.

"What? You think I cannot do it, is that it? That I'll never be more than a teaching assistant?"

"Yeah," he simply replied and her heart sank even deeper. "Because those old pricks couldn't see intelligence if it hit them over the head!" 

"Oh…" 

Wait, was he just criticizing the board of Cambridge University? Or was he also saying she was intelligent? Was there a compliment in there somewhere? He was definitely a very confusing person.

"But how do you even know?" was all she thought of asking.

"I just do," he said, stopping as they reached the top of a hill. "Here we are," he added, pointing a finger in front of him. "The village is at the end of that road. I trust you can find your way from there."

"Yes, yes, of course. But are you not going that way too?" she asked, confused. There wasn't any other road or any other village she knew of on this side of the forest.

"No."

"Mr Fitz, are you really living in the forest?"

He sighed. "What did I tell you earlier?"

"That it's none of my business?"

"Exactly. Good evening, Miss Simmons," he replied, and with that he turned on his heels and walked back the way they just came from.

"Wait! I didn't even have the time to thank you for helping me find my way back!" she cried out.

"Don’t mention it!" he replied barely loud enough for her to hear, and a few seconds later he was out of sight and, most likely, out of her life. 

Another thing her mum had taught her well was how to read men. Which Jemma had mostly used to get rid of them instead of attracting them, like her mom had hoped. But this Mr Fitz, he was especially hard to read. He seemed to be grumpy all the time for no specific reason and then he'd smile or laugh for the most unexpected reasons. And just when she thought she might get something out of him, he left without bothering with the usual niceties one would have expected of a man who'd just escorted a lady through the forest for the past two hours. 

Well, she still had half an hour to walk before she was home and she had plenty of plants and flowers to study. At least with those, she just had to cut into to see what they were made of and what they had to offer.

-0-0-0-

Jemma was so disconcerted by the hours she just lived and how they ended, that she barely noticed the time passing as she descended towards the village. She didn't even bother responding to Mrs Fig's comments on the state of her dress or hair and retired to her room after an early dinner. Deciding that she'd had a rather productive day already, she just laid out the flowers and plants she collected in the pots on her windowsill, and went to take the bath Mrs. Fig had ordered for her without Jemma even asking. She didn't feel quite as dirty as Mrs Fig suggested, but after walking such a long distance in uncomfortable shoes, she had admit the hot water felt heavenly. 

She rested her head on the edge of the bathtub and let her mind wander. She really did have great expectations for the yellow flowers she'd found close to the edge of the forest. She would quickly take care of all the ones she already knew so that she could focus on the yellow ones for the rest of the day. She'd start by checking her books to make sure they weren't catalogued and then she'd start experimenting, press them, cut open the leaves, infuse them in hot water. Maybe they'd be a cure to some serious illness like cholera or something equally terrible. Her eyes fluttered close and her daydreaming soon turned to actual dreams. She'd just effectively cured the whole crew of a British military ship and walked out of the captain's cabin to walk into the big amphitheater of Cambridge University. Everyone was applauding, students and professors alike, as they waited for her to give them a lecture. She started speaking of her upcoming expedition to Africa -she'd planned it so many times in her head before that it all came out very easily- and suddenly she wasn't in Cambridge anymore but on the bow of a boat. Beyond the port, she could see the deep, thick jungle that had been her goal for years. She couldn't even imagine how many secrets awaited her there, how many more illnesses she could cure with the plants and flowers hiding behind those tall trees. She walked out of the boat and straight into the jungle. It was all so breathtakingly beautiful and lush and full of colors that Jemma almost didn't notice the beast looking at her from behind the trees. Was it really a lion? That didn't make any sense in the middle of the jungle, lions didn't live in the forest. She turned around to ask the members of her expedition if they saw it too, and there _he_ was, Mr. Fitz. Without uttering a single word, he took her hand and pulled her deep into the forest. They ran and jumped and climbed into the trees, as easily as if she was still a little girl, until they were breathless and her jaw hurt from laughing so much, and he laid her out onto a sort of wooden platform high into the trees. He trailed the fingers of one hand from her wrist to her shoulder then down again until he could close them around her breast. She shivered and moaned at the touch and only then realized she was completely naked. She should have been outraged at his boldness, but as his other hand moved to her neck and then her face, his thumb grazing her lips. It was like he'd lit a fire inside her. She took his hands and pulled until he was laying over her, his face a mere inch from hers, looking down at her with those intense eyes and she—

She was startled awake and barely had the time to grab hold of the edges before she sunk further into the water. 

"Miss Simmons?" an insistent voice called from outside the door. 

"Yes," she replied, her voice sleepy and strangely hoarse. She hoped she wasn't coming down with something too. She didn't have the time to be sick at the moment.

"Do you need more hot water? It must be getting cold by now."

"Ah hum… no, no, I was just about to get out. Thank you Margaret."

"Do you need help getting dressed, miss?"

"No, I'll be fine, thank you. Good night Margaret!" Jemma replied, trying not to sound too impatient. Honestly, who really needed help getting out of a bathtub and slipping a nightgown on?

"Thank you Miss Simmons. Good night to you too," the young woman replied, and then Jemma heard her light footsteps as she walked away. 

Jemma sighed as she let her head fall back for just one more minute. The water was in fact still quite warm and she didn't feel cold at all. She could still feel the warmth that had invaded her body in her dream and she felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought. Oh, she'd dreamed of kissing boys before, after reading one of those silly romance novels, even had a proper kiss once, but nothing that had felt quite so brazen and real and— 

She sighed again. There was a strange tingling sensation between her legs and despite being fully immersed in warm water, her nipples were hard and peaking and she felt compelled to touch them. She tentatively brought a hand to cup her breast and shivered in delight. She grazed the hardened nub with her thumb like he'd done over her lips, and a slight moan escaped her throat. Her eyes closed of their own volition. She could see his face now, giving her that pleased little smile as his hands, instead of hers, caressed her skin and flicked her nipple. More of that strange but not disagreeable heat was gathering between her legs and Jemma wondered what it would feel like if—

Her other hand plunged into the water and slowly slid over her stomach to rest on the curly tuft of hair between her thighs. This felt nice already but it still didn't ease the pressure that was growing as she could almost feel his strong, more callused fingers tighten their hold on her, and her thighs spreading open at their demand. She pressed a finger between her folds and it was like fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. Nothing had ever felt this good, except maybe when she first received her degree from Cambridge. She pushed a little deeper, finding the hardened little nub she knew to be the clitoris because of the books her cousin Barbara had let her read when she was visiting her in Brighton, and she keened in pleasure. She couldn't believe such a tiny bit of flesh could make her whole body feel that way just by touching it. She started rubbing it gently and she could almost feel her eyes roll all the way to the back of her head. She remembered how easily he'd lifted her up and carried her across the river and how his hands had lingered on her waist. She could still feel them warm on her skin, despite the layers of fabric she'd been wearing. The movement of her hand sped up between her legs and she pinched her nipple as she bit her lip not to whimper out loud. The heat she'd been feeling earlier was spreading through her legs and it was getting hard to breathe somehow. The sensation was so intense it became almost painful and Jemma held her breath as she felt all her muscles tighten. She wondered if, maybe, she did something wrong, but something compelled her to rub her finger harder between her folds and the next second, it felt like an explosion started from her vagina and spread all the way from the tip of her toes to the roots of her hair. As she released her breath, Jemma let out a properly sinful low moan that she couldn't believe came out of her own mouth. It was followed by a high pitched shriek though, when her muscles relaxed and her head sank under the water. 

Her limbs still feeling like marmalade, she gesticulated and sputtered water for a good ten seconds before she managed to right herself. She tried to remain silent for a moment and kept her ear out for any noise coming from the hallway, but thankfully, it seemed that no one hard heard either her, well she supposed that was an orgasm she had, or how she almost drowned herself in her bath. That would have been very, very embarrassing. Jemma let out a deep sigh as she willed her heart to slow down, and a smile crept onto her face. _This_ definitely felt better than getting her degree. She had to talk to Barbara soon because her books didn't mention that you could do that on your own or that it would feel this good. She had to tell her because, if she knew, that might make her reconsider the main reason why she wanted to get married to Lance Hunter so quickly despite his questionable reputation. Although Jemma suspected, Mr Hunter's bad reputation was also a motivation on its own for Barbara, and one of the reasons Jemma got on so well with her cousin. 

Jemma got on her knees, then stood up to finally get out of the tub before it really started to get cold. She quickly dried herself, slipped on her nightgown, and brushed and braided her hair before settling into bed. She felt exhausted in the nicest possible way and more relaxed than she had ever been, and she suspected it had very little to do with the bath. She closed her eyes and he was there once more, looking down at her with those strikingly blue eyes of his. She huffed and opened her eyes again. If she was completely honest, she didn't exactly bring herself to orgasm completely on her own. The thoughts and images of Mr. Fitz that her brain had provided, had certainly made the whole experience feel very… vivid. Which really didn't make any sense. Except for his eyes and strong but delicate hands, he wasn't even attractive. He was rude, had no manners, he wasn't tall enough, and who knew what hid behind that shaggy beard of his? Alright, she'd also been interested by the way the muscles of his calves rolled under his skin as he walked in front of her, but that was strictly from a scientific point of view and because she didn't often have the opportunity to see a man's calves. Not at all really.

Ah but of course, that was it. Dallchaloch was a tiny place with a small church, a few shops and less than twenty houses. She hadn't seen a man close to her age for weeks and her brain had just focused on the last one. That was all. With that comforting thought in mind, Jemma closed her eyes again and focused on those promising yellow flowers. 

-0-0-0-

Jemma woke up the next morning with a start, her legs all tangled into the sheets and feeling hot and sweaty. Her dreams had been… interesting. Well, she would have found the fact that her brain could provide so many detailed images of the male form interesting, if it wasn't so distracting. She'd had some of her best ideas early in the morning after a good night's sleep, but the ones she was having at the moment would definitely not be helpful for any kind of research she was doing. Well, at least it was still early so she stood up and quickly got ready for the day. She first took care of the plants and flowers she knew the properties of already, making pastes with the leaves, infusing the flowers in hot water and taking notes of everything she did. Her mind remained perfectly focused on her task and by lunch she was done with everything she gathered the previous day except those mysterious yellow flowers. 

Her young maid had told her the women in her family had always used those as an infusion during their monthlies. If it was just another herb to ease cramps and stomach ache, it wouldn't be especially interesting, but if it had to do with compensating for blood loss, that could be interesting. It could help women all over the world and anyone that had been badly injured and lost a lot of blood. So after a quick lunch, Jemma decided to go down to the village and ask around. 

After knocking on every door in the village and asking every woman living there, Jemma started walking back to the Simmons' house with no new information whatsoever and feeling a little dejected. The young maid had no family left, so that left Jemma with the choice of either riding a horse to the nearest villages and potentially wasting a day or two for nothing, or wait for her monthlies that wouldn't come for another fortnight and test it out on herself, but then it would soon be time to go back to London. 

Jemma sighed. Well, whichever solution she chose, it'd have to wait until the next morning. 

With her worries turning over in her mind, Jemma forgot to turn left like she was supposed to and found herself in front of a small shop she hadn't yet seen in the three weeks she'd been in Dallchaloch. It was a shoemaker's shop and Jemma sighed as her brain immediately brought back memories of Mr. Fitz, both the real ones and the dreams. 

"Of course!" she exclaimed, quickly looking around to make sure no one had heard her speak to herself. Mr. Fitz lived in the woods, or at least near enough that he might have some knowledge about plants and flowers. Jemma didn't believe in signs or destiny or any other kind of nonsense like this, but the fact that she'd been in the forest almost every day for three weeks and had only stumbled upon him the day she also found the flowers couldn't be a coincidence. Of course, it could just be that it was the first time she went so deep into the forest, but still, it was worth the try and could save her a lot of time. A wide smile bloomed on her face at the prospect. Because of science of course, not because of that rude, ill-mannered, pretty-eyed man. 

Looking back towards the shop, Jemma noticed that it was small and modest but clean and with a rather elegant sign above the door. The man inside had a rather pleasant face, smiling as he focused on his work. It made Jemma wonder… Well, she got into Cambridge after all, she could probably handle a single shoemaker. She smiled wider, opened the door and walked in with all the assurance she could muster.

-0-0-0-

Accepting that she wouldn't be able to sleep some more without falling back into more confusing dreams, Jemma woke up the next morning before the sun was even up. She did her usual morning ablutions, put on her new boots and chose her lightest, most practical skirt along with the shirt that went with it. If it also turned out to be the most fitting and revealing one of her day clothes, it was a complete coincidence. And since she was up so early and she had to wait a little longer than usual for breakfast, Jemma had nothing better to do than spending a little longer than usual on her hair. She curled it properly and gathered it in a more intricate bun, letting a few strands fall on the sides of her face. Even her mother wouldn't have much to complain about her looks that day. She felt quite pleased with her appearance herself, not that it had anything to do with what she had planned for that day.

Jemma did have a fantastic memory, and with Mr Fitz not being exactly talkative, she had had no trouble taking mental notes of everything to find her way back this time. Or at least enough to go beyond the stream they'd crossed. Hopefully, once there, it wouldn't take too long to find him. Maybe she'd just conveniently stumble upon him or find a path to his house. She'd been to every house in the village and hadn't seen him, so she was now almost certain he did live in the woods. What he did there remained a mystery though. He seemed too lean to be a lumberjack and too ill mannered and badly dressed to simply be an eccentric gentleman who would have decided to build his house in the woods on a whim. 

Jemma crossed the stream on foot, finding it extremely satisfying to wet her new and definitely more comfortable boots. She hadn't felt this free since she was a little girl. The path going uphill was well marked and Jemma followed it until she reached the top and stumbled upon a sight she didn't expect. Mr Fitz was here, which was a relief, at least she wouldn't have to spend the day looking for him. He was sitting on a stump and there were at least ten squirrels surrounding him, one was in his lap and there was even one on his shoulder. A wide smile pulled at her lips. That was awfully adorable for someone who seemed to hate all living creatures. She tried to walk as quietly as possible as she approached them, but of course, the little creatures heard her and fled into the trees. 

"How do you do that?" she asked, not bothering for politeness.

"I play the flute and they come to me. They're well trained to do my bidding," he replied, and Jemma raised her eyebrows in disbelief. 

He shook his head with an amused smile before standing up. As he got a little closer, Jemma noticed that his hair was wet and his shirt clung to his torso rather distractingly. He must have been bathing in the stream and Jemma felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought of the sight she might have stumbled upon had she left home just fifteen minutes earlier.

"I just carry all kinds of nuts with me at all times," he said, diving his hand into the pouch on his hip to show it to her.

"But why?"

"Because it's very nutritious and it attracts the squirrels," he replied matter of factly. 

"Oh! Do you eat them?" she asked, scrunching up her nose. After all, if he lived in the woods, he had to do with what was available.

"What? No!"

"Oh, isn't squirrel meat any good?"

"I don't know!" he cried out, looking more and more horrified.

"Then why do you—"

"They're excellent company!"

Jemma couldn't stop the wide grin that tugged at her lips at his words. The thought of the grumpiest human being she'd ever met, going into the woods with nuts in his pockets just so that he could feed and pet cute, furry creatures, was just too delightful. 

"And better than humans, more simple and much less judgmental," he added, glaring at her. The effect was a little ruined by his cheeks turning pink though.

"Right," she said, not putting in any effort to try and hide her smile.

"So why are you here?" he groaned. "Did you get lost again?"

"No, actually I hum-I was hoping to see you," she replied, trying her best to sound confident. She wasn't doing anything scandalous, she was just a scientist gathering information about a potential cure for several diseases. 

"Oh, were you really?" he asked, his lips pulling into a wide smile as he took a few steps towards her, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Jemma rolled her eyes and tried not to be distracted by the way his eyes trailed down her body for a second before locking back on her face. She cleared her throat and opened her bag to take the small yellow flower out of its pouch. This one didn't look very fresh anymore but enough to be recognizable at least. 

"Yes," Jemma replied sternly. "Since I assumed you're living in the woods, I wanted to ask if you knew anything about those flowers I found the other day. Specifically about their healing properties." 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and she fought not to roll her eyes all the way to the back of her head. 

"Don't you think I would have told you if I did?" 

"You're not exactly loquacious, Mr Fitz," she replied, feeling a little defensive. 

"Oh, so you truly believe I'd watch you pluck a flower that cures cholera or polio or whatever and wouldn't think it useful to tell you what it does, especially knowing why you're looking for flowers in the first place?"

He leveled her with another of those mocking smiles and she didn't like it one bit, and she wished she had an effective way of wiping it off his face once and for all. 

"It's not supposed to be so revolutionary," she huffed. "My maid told me the women in her family use it during their monthlies, and I know men are usually rather uncomfortable talking about that subject so I thought—"

"Why's that? It's a natural part of life," Mr Fitz asked, rather casually. Jemma was positively surprised by his answer, although she could tell she wasn't completely wrong since it seemed to make him a little pink in the cheeks. 

"Oh. Right, well you might not be like most men then, but I assure you it's a fact, even amongst doctors and scientists," she replied, and he chuckled.

"Well, you know better than anyone else how backwards and small-minded scientists can be, right?" 

"Ah, yes…" He really was a confusing man. Being generally grumpy and irritating, and then suddenly saying things that sounded like he'd taken the words directly out of her mouth. "So you really don't know anything?" 

"No, I don't," he replied, taking one more step towards her as he tilted his head to the side, like he was studying her somehow. Jemma felt her heartbeat pick up. She wasn't used to such closeness. Well, except in her dreams, but that thought wouldn't help slow down her heart. "Come on, Miss Simmons, is that really why you wanted to see me?" 

"Well of course it is! Why would I—"

"There's nothing wrong with admitting you just wanted to see me," he cut her off. And why did that mocking smile have to be so attractive? Did his lips look so soft and pink and kissable the last time she saw him? She was only noticing it now, so obviously, that wasn't the reason she came to see him that day.

"Oh please, don't flatter yourself," she huffed, poking a finger into his chest. "Like I'd want to spend time with someone so rude, who lives in the woods like a wolf or a—"

"Cat?" he provided for her, glancing at her finger but not making a move to take it off. "Nice boots by the way," he added. 

"Shut up!"

"And I'm the rude one here…"

"God you're annoying!" she cried out, poking at his chest once more for good measure. She couldn't stop herself from doing it anymore it seemed. "Can't believe I thought you could help me with anything, I should have known, I—"

"Oh please, Miss Simmons!" he cut her off. "That was a very poor excuse, we both know you're way too smart to pretend that—"

His words were cut off when Jemma threw herself at him and pressed her lips to his. She could ignore her dreams and fantasies about him, that was just her body trying to take over, but she couldn't ignore it when, for the first time in her life, a man had not only noticed her intelligence, but took it as an obviousness. He groaned as she'd obviously taken him by surprise, but then his hands fell to her hips as hers splayed on his chest, and he kissed her back. The way he moved his lips across hers was surprisingly soft, like a butterfly fluttering its wings, and she sighed in slight frustration. It wasn't quite as passionate as it had been in her—

His hands suddenly gripped her hips tighter and his kisses became more insistent, he trapped her bottom lip between his, sucking on it lightly, and she moaned. She felt that heat low in her belly once more and couldn't help but slide her arms around his neck. He pressed her against him tighter and when he licked across her lips and parted them further, Jemma thought she was back in one of her dreams. Their lips moved harder against each other and their tongues tangled and Jemma felt her legs grow weak. After what felt forever and still not long enough, Mr Fitz parted from her, quite gently taking her face in his hands as her lips didn't seem to agree with his decision.

"Why did you stop?" she asked breathlessly, looking up into his eyes. He had that look again, but somehow this time she didn't mind at all.

"What is this? I don't-I don't understand, you—"

"Don't know! Just kiss me again!" she cut him off, then went on her tiptoes and bit his lip, making him groan in something that didn't exactly sound like pain. 

"You're crazy, you know that, right?" 

"Shut up and do that thing with your tongue again!"

"Alright! If that's how you want it…" he whispered against her lips, before claiming them in an urgent kiss. He slipped his tongue between her lips once more and she moaned as he did exactly as he was asked. But then his hands moved from her hips to her bottom and he lifted her up, taking a few steps forward until she was trapped between him and the closest tree. His hands remained on her bottom as he kissed her thoroughly and she knew she should have been scandalized but it all felt too good for her to care, and she was slowly realizing that his terrible manners might have been what had attracted her after all. She'd already been partial to his eyes and now, she was also rather partial to his lips and that intensity in his eyes and— oh god, he was now squeezing her bottom roughly and pressing the length of his body against hers. Yes, his hands were definitely on the list of things she liked about him.

Of course he was right. That was exactly why she came back and it had only taken a few minutes to expose the lie she'd convinced herself of. She had never been interested in marrying, whether for the supposed financial safety and protection --that she could take care of herself while doing what she liked-- or the physical part of it. Her neighbor Milton had kissed her once when she was fourteen and she had found it terribly boring. But in one afternoon, with his terrible manners and confusing attitude, it was like Mr. Fitz had turned her bright mind to mush and unlocked something in her. 

He broke the kiss only to reattach his lips to the side of her neck. She whimpered when he found a spot that she didn't even know was so sensitive. 

"Christ you're beautiful," he said in a voice so low it made her shiver, before nipping at her skin, his beard only adding to the tingling sensation as it brushed over her collarbone.

Jemma let her hands descend to his chest, easily undoing the buttons of his shirt. Men had it really easy, she thought, compared to the long minutes, and the help of at least one maid, it took to undo her corset. His skin was still fresh from having bathed in the stream, but the muscles were firm under the surface, and she was overwhelmed by his scent. It was something undefinable and male that, combined with the faint smell of soap, only added to the fire igniting between her legs again. He was pressing her against the tree but she still felt like it wasn't enough. So she let her hands go down and around to his bottom and pulled him closer. She moaned out loud. Even through the layer of her dress and his kilt, she could feel a hardness press against her stomach. Groaning, he bit the skin of her shoulder, and, pulling his hips back, he bent his knees and pushed back once more, this time hitting that special place between her legs. She keened in pleasure as she grabbed his face and brought his lips back to his, and he did it again, and again, pushing her into the rough surface of the tree. 

He was groaning inside her mouth and the sound made her skin tingle and goosebumps form from her head down to her toes. One of his hands left her bum and slid up her shirt until he could close it over one breast. 

"Stupid bloody corset!" he mumbled against her lips. She could feel a vague pressure as he tried to squeeze, but the thickness of the fabric made every sensation dull and nothing like when she'd caressed her own skin or what she'd felt in her dreams. 

"Try breathing in one," she grumbled.

He chuckled and started unbuttoning the top of her shirt instead, trailing his fingers over the skin left uncovered by her corset. 

"Better," she sighed as she arched her back. His lips pulled into a wide smile and he bowed his head down, kissing the top of one breast. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and she could only push her breast towards him more. He dove right back in and slid his tongue where her breasts were squished together by her corset, licking the skin there with enthusiasm. The feeling was maddeningly sensual but it wasn't nearly enough. 

She pulled him closer again, pushing her hips into him to feel his hard cock against her center again. 

"More!" she whispered into his ear, and he groaned again. He threaded his fingers in her hair while the other hand went to her hip and he pushed her back against the trunk of the tree. 

"Do you know what you're doing, Miss Simmons?" he asked, breathless and his eyes more intense than ever. 

"I know what I want to do," she replied with determination. His expression turned soft for a moment as he looked at her. 

"But you never actually—"

"I'm an independent woman, Mister Fitz, I don't need a husband and I make a living for myself, but that doesn't mean I don't want the physical part of—"

This time he was the one who cut her off with a kiss. It was quick but passionate enough to leave her speechless.

"I don't doubt your motives and it's not why I was asking!" And with that, he claimed her lips once more. 

His hands were eager over her body as he kissed her with renewed passion. And as he pushed her body harder against the tree, the evidence of his arousal sending sparks of pleasure all through her body, she melted into his embrace. All remaining thoughts of propriety and ruination left her mind for good as she finally understood what desire really felt like with a man who'd seen past her pretty face and family money and understood her better than anyone else ever had before. In fact, she was so enthralled by the way he seemed to want to devour her that it took her a moment to realize he'd stopped kissing her, and had actually stopped touching her altogether. When she opened her eyes, she half expected him to have disappeared, the whole thing having only been another one of those vivid dreams, but instead, she found him in front of her, on his knees. 

"What-what are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaky with desire.

He just smiled wickedly before sliding his hands under her skirt and up her legs. She couldn't have said if she shivered more because of the whisk of fresh air or because of his eyes roaming over her skin. "Bloody gorgeous," he whispered as he ran his hands over her stocking clad legs. Pressing a kiss on her thigh just above her knee, he trailed his fingers up again and hooked them on the sides of her knickers before slowly pulling down. She let out a gasping breath when she felt a little breeze move her skirts and realized her most private parts were bare to him but for the little tuft of curly hair covering it. 

He looked up at her with a small knowing smile that would have annoyed her if she didn't know how good those lips of his felt. "Trust me," he said as he started trailing a line of kisses from her knee and up her thigh. "If you liked it up there, you'll like it down here."

"What?" she breathed out.

He reached the apex of her thighs and she let out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the tree as she felt her knees go weak. His hands moved from where they had been on her thighs up and around to knead her bottom. She keened in unexpected pleasure. This definitely felt much better than through her skirts and it was all deliciously scandalous but that wasn't what she'd been expecting him to do when he started undressing her, and the desire she felt pulsing between her legs was starting to get uncomfortable. If only he could just touch her, she— 

"Oh!" she let out, her voice high pitched, as he took one leg and hooked it over his shoulder. She was glad for the tree behind her or she would have no doubt fallen down. "Mr Fitz, what are you doing?"

"I think you can just call me Fitz now, considering…" She could hear more than she saw the smile in his voice, since his upper body was half buried under her skirts. And before she could insist on him answering her question once more, he was pressing a kiss just above the folds between her legs. 

"Oh!" she practically squealed this time. "Oh…" He pressed another one a little lower, and then another one, and— "OH GOD! FITZ!" He'd just slipped his tongue between her lips and licked her clitoris. He did it again a few times before giving her a long slow lick from bottom to top and focusing back on the hardened little nub she couldn't believe she'd neglected for so long. He sucked on it and Jemma cried out once more as one hand went to his hair of its own volition. Fitz groaned as she gripped his hair tightly and it was only when he licked at her with even more enthusiasm that she understood he'd liked it. So she kept it there, enjoying the wiry texture of his hair as she threaded her fingers through it. She really didn't mind it being so unruly after all. Waves of heat and shivers were running all over her skin at the same time and she felt that she was approaching that wonderful sensation again. He did something different with his tongue and her hips bucked involuntarily. He chuckled against her skin and brought his hands from her bum to her hips and pushed her back against the tree. She whined as his lips left hers for a second but then he reattached them and started flicking his tongue much faster. Her knees felt as if they were going to give out and then, her muscles tensed, her head fell back against the tree and she moaned out loud as she felt that explosion of pleasure from her center.

Now, she understood Barbara. It really was even nicer with a man, although she doubted proper gentlemen usually did that. Did Lance Hunter do that? Wait, was that what Bobbi meant when she said his kisses were really special? She really had to have a talk with— 

"Oh god!" she cried out, her eyes fluttering open as she looked down at him. Fitz had just stopped licking her, her clitoris still pulsing deliciously, when she felt one finger push into her entrance. 

"Alright?" he asked with a smirk that seemed to mean he knew exactly what he was doing. She could only nod as a gasping breath was torn from her throat. He pushed it in deeper, pumping it in and out a few times before adding a second one. The sensation was different but not any less incredible and she whimpered as the delightful friction it created sent shivers up her spine. He changed the angle of his thrust a bit and Jemma cried out as she climaxed again. It was a good thing she didn't know it could happen twice in so little time or she might have spent the previous nights doing only that. He kept moving his fingers until the waves of her pleasure finally stopped and her body went lax like a dislocated doll. He put her leg down and stood up, gathering her in his arms before she actually fell in a heap of heavy limbs on the ground. 

"Bloody hell," she mumbled against the skin of his neck, and he laughed. It was a happy, uninhibited sound that reminded her of the way he'd smiled when he carried her across the river. It was free of sarcasm and teasing and it made her hold onto him tighter as a wave of fondness for him threatened to overwhelm her. It also reminded her how amazing he smelt, so she buried her face further into his neck and nipped at the skin uncovered by his shirt there. He let out a low moan, so she did it again, moving until she reached that spot on his throat where she could feel his heartbeat, and she sucked on it. She loved that she could feel as much as she heard the little moans that were coming out of him as she kept exploring his skin. She let her hands slide down his shirt until she could cup his bottom through his kilt. It made his hips twitch and press his still very hard member against her. 

She hummed in appreciation against his skin. Apparently what he did hadn't only been for her pleasure. Interesting.

His bottom felt nice under her hands but that bloody kilt was way too thick and besides, she couldn't help but wonder if what they said was true about the way Scots wore their kilts. So she pulled on the fabric until it was bunched up around his waist and was rewarded with the feeling of his very naked bottom. She grinned as he let out a very unmanly squeak, and squeezed firmly, which sent an unexpected shot of heat directly to her still sensitive center. The skin was soft and the muscles incredibly firm and she couldn't believe she never noticed before how attractive that part of a man could be. He thrust his hips into her and she keened in pleasure at both the feeling of his hardness against her and the way she could feel his muscles roll and tighten under her hands. 

He palmed her cheeks and tilted her face up to look at him. "You really have terrible manners for a lady, you know that, right?" he asked, the delighted expression on his face contradicting the reproach in his words. 

"I've been told before, yes. What are you going to do about it?" she replied, pulling him against her once more and biting her lip not to moan as she maintained eye contact. His lips pulled into a wide smile before kissing her, prying her lips open with his tongue as his hands went for her skirts, urgent and shaking slightly as he pulled them up all the way to her waist. he left one hand there and the other went for the side of his kilt. He groaned as she supposed he worked on some sort of fastenings until the whole thing fell in a heap on the ground. 

"Too much bloody fabric!" he mumbled against her lips before slipping his tongue into her mouth again and pressing his body against hers. She squeaked as his cock pushed against the skin of her stomach. Without any barrier between them, it felt even harder and incredibly hot and Jemma couldn't help breaking the kiss to look down at it. It looked nothing like the Greek statues at The British Museum and she didn't think it could be hidden under a few small leaves. The drawings she saw in medical books didn't do it any justice either, she thought, as a wide smile pulled at her lips. She let go of his bum and brought her hand around to touch him, tentatively curling her fingers around his cock. She felt his whole body tremble as she did, so she caressed him from base to tip, very intrigued by the thick vein that seemed to be pulsing as she moved down and up again. She kept doing it for a moment until his hand closed around hers and he pulled it away. 

"Oh sorry, did I do something wrong? I thought you seemed to—"

He crashed his lips to hers again and she giggled at his urgency. So he definitely liked it then. His hands moved back to her bottom and she squealed as he lifted her up against the tree. She instinctively hooked her legs around his hips and when he thrust his hips against hers this time, his cock was perfectly aligned with her entrance. She held onto his shoulders tightly and on the next thrust, he pushed into her. Her mouth left his for a moment and she cried out in a mix of surprise, pain and pleasure. The pinching sensation she'd heard so much about wasn't half as bad as she'd been told and it soon faded into pleasure as his hardness pushed deeper into her channel. She suspected it was just another boogeyman story young women were told about to scare them and prevent them from seeking this wonderful sensation before they were married. He pulled back slowly and then in again with a low grunt. 

"Alright?" he asked, his voice as shaky as his hands on her bottom. 

"Yes! Yes, more!" she replied against his lips.

He didn't say another word and instead started moving again, faster with every thrust, until he found a rhythm that left her lightheaded. She didn't have enough breath to keep on kissing, too focused on the overwhelming feeling from where their bodies were connected. It was very different from what he did with his tongue or fingers, less delicate and more primal but incredibly good and it felt like his whole body was surrounding her. Everything felt heightened, his fingers digging into her skin, the muscles of her thighs aching, his beard tickling the skin of her neck where he'd rested his head, and of course the way he pushed her against the tree trunk with every forceful thrust. She cried out when he bit into the skin of her neck and then sucked on it to soften the bite. She palmed his cheek to force him to look up at her and his expression left her breathless. It was so wild and full of desire that it sent a shiver down her spine and she pulled him in for a messy, uncoordinated kiss as he kept rocking against her erratically. Before their mouths separated once more, she sucked and bit his lower lip until he let a loud groan. And then, re-tightening his hands on her bottom, he lifted her up a little higher and let her fall back on his cock. Jemma's eyes fluttered close and she thought she might have seen stars explode behind her eyelids. He did it again and she moaned out loud. "Oh god, yes!" she cried out, so loud that she felt it might have echoed far enough for the whole forest to have heard her. She fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling on it until she could get her hands on his skin. He felt incredibly hot despite the cold air and she splayed on her hands on his shoulders, his rolling muscles a true wonder as he kept moving hard into her. On the next pass, she could feel the telltale signs of her impending orgasm, and a short moment later, she finally came with a soft cry, her head falling back against the tree. Fitz didn't stop moving and she kept whimpering as it prolonged her pleasure. After a moment, he let go of her bottom and placed his hands on both sides of her face, pressing her tightly against the tree with his body. he started moving in short but hard and fast thrusts then, and Jemma's eyes shot up. He was looking at her as his own face showed a mix of bliss and exertion. She held his gaze, her jaw dropping open as pleasure started to rise again and after only a short moment, he froze then gave two longer thrusts and moaned loudly as she felt his cock twitch inside her. His head fell on her shoulder once more and despite knowing all there was theoretically to know about sex, she was surprised by the rush of fluid she felt as he gave a few last short aborted thrusts. 

When their breathing started to even out, Fitz lifted his head to look at her and smiled. His lips were pink and kiss swollen but when he kissed her, it was the sweetest one they'd exchanged yet, a soft slide of lips against lips as his fingers slid into her hair, letting tendril after tendril fall from the intricate bun she'd worked on that morning. 

"You look pretty today, Jemma," he whispered against her lips and she burst out laughing. "What? I meant it!" he groaned, pulling back to look at her. 

"I know, I believe you, it's just—" She looked down to where they were still joined. "—you don't really need to seduce me anymore," she grinned.

He rolled his eyes but she kissed him again before he could turn back to his own grumpy self. She'd liked the sound of her name in his accent and she wanted to hear it again with that same soft tone. "Thank you," she said when their lips parted. "You look very pretty yourself," she added and he chuckled. 

"Fitz?" she asked after a moment. "Could you let me down? Or I'm afraid my legs will never work again." 

"Oh, right. Sorry!"

He pulled out of her and held her as her legs fell back to the ground, the soft wet moss feeling nice under her feet. Fitz grabbed his kilt and wrapped it around himself faster than she'd thought possible considering the amount of fabric, and definitely faster than she wanted him to as it barely left her a few seconds to admire his lovely looking bottom and softening penis. It was a very interesting mechanism, anatomically speaking, but she had the feeling he'd be more keen on letting her observe the hardening phase rather than this one. Her mind still feeling blissfully hazy, she watched Fitz move to grab her knickers and her bag. He hooked the latter across his chest and kept the rest in one hand as he came back to stand in front of her. Before she had the time to ask him what they were even supposed to do now, he bent down slightly and lifted her up into his arms, one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. 

"Fitz!" she cried out in delight. He definitely was stronger than he looked if he could still carry her like that after what they'd just done. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to my den," he replied with a smirk. She huffed at him but still smiled back.

"If you give me back my boots, I'm sure I'll manage to walk, you know." 

"I'm sure you can. But let me be a gentleman for two minutes, yeah?" 

"Alright," she said softly, locking her hands behind his neck as she let her head fall back on his shoulder, breathing him in deeply.

-0-0-0-

His den turned out to be a beautiful house in fact. It was rather unusual though, mostly made out of wood, and the first floor consisted of a very wide open space with what could have passed for a parlor in the middle, a large desk covered in books and rolls of paper by the high window, and a large bed in an alcove on the left. Jemma was very curious to know what was on the upper level if his bed was down here, or how one ended building a house in the middle of the forest, but Fitz had just laid her down on the bed. He was lying next to her and looking down at her like he'd just discovered a treasure in his own house and Jemma decided that those questions could wait.

She turned on her side to face him and trailed one finger from his hair to the tip of his nose and stopping right over his lips. "How did you learn to do _that_?" she asked, blushing when she thought of the sight she must have been while he was on his knees, working his mouth over her most private parts. 

"It’s pretty instinctive, all animals do it you know," he replied with a smirk and she laughed.

"No! I mean what you did with your hum… with your tongue," she specified and she could see his eyes sparkle before he shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing.

"Oh that? My wolf brothers taught me," he said and she groaned as she hid her face behind her hands.

"I'm really sorry I said that, that was terribly rude of me, and obviously you weren't raised by wolves and—"

He stopped her with a finger on her lips as he gently pushed her back against the mattress. He smiled as he came to hover over her. 

"That's alright," he said. "Wolves are wonderful creatures. And I hum, I happen to know other stuff too..." Jemma raised her eyebrows in interest and he bowed his head down to press a light kiss to her lips. "Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?"

After helping her out of her shirt and skirts, Fitz set about unlacing her corset. He started from the bottom and Jemma let out a deep breath when he reached her waist. She could almost feel her organs getting back to their rightful place. He kept going up, gently rubbing the skin of her back where the bloody thing must have left deep creases. She let out another deep contented sigh when he finally reached the top and it was loose enough for him to lift it over her head. He pulled her into his embrace immediately and she melted into it. At some point, his shirt had gone as well and the feeling of his warm chest against her back was the most incredible sensation ever. She sighed as she felt goosebumps erupt all over her skin. He started gently rubbing the abused skin of her sides and stomach and she let her head fall back on his shoulder. 

"Bloody corsets," he half whispered. "Whoever invented this is a bloody sadist who hates women," he added and Jemma had the sudden impulse to forget all about Cambridge and run away into the woods with him.

"Oh I don't really think they hate us, they just like us contained so we don't have the chance to realize we can live without them," Jemma replied and he chuckled. 

"Ah. Well, that's not making me any prouder of my sex!" His hands came up and he softly palmed her breasts. They were gentle and warm and the perfect fit for her modest bosom. "Let me make it up to you, yeah?" he added, and Jemma laughed lightly. 

"How very selfless of you." His thumbs gently flicked her nipples as he pressed kisses to her neck and shoulders, and she had to admit she was rather curious about what he had to offer.

"I never said I wouldn't enjoy making it up to you," he whispered in her ear. He pulled her back onto the bed then, hovering over her as if he was deciding which part of her he wanted to devour first. He smiled wickedly before finally settling his hands on both sides of her shoulders and closing his mouth around one taut nipple. 

"Oh!" That felt different. A very delicious kind of different and she wondered if— "Oh, oh my… Fitz!"

-0-0-0-

As she drifted back into consciousness, it took Jemma a moment to remember where she was. Her dreams had been so full of him for the past two days that it would have been easy to mistake what happened for another one of those delicious fantasies. But the strangely pleasant soreness between her legs and the wonderful scent on the pillow reminded her that it was all wonderfully real. She opened an eye carefully and looked through the window. The sun was still high in the sky, which meant she still had a few hours before she'd have to go home. Not that she wanted to or felt ashamed of what she'd just done in any way, but if she wasn't home by dinner time, people would start looking for her and she really, really didn't want that. Her family would consider her ruined or at least thought she'd tainted the Simmons family name. Which was ridiculous because she didn't feel ruined or tainted in any way, she felt wonderful and happy and full of an energy she didn't really understand, like she'd be able to swim to Africa on her own if no one wanted to pay for her expedition. She smiled at the thought and turned onto her back, stretching her muscles all the way from her neck to the tip of her toes before sighing contentedly. Fitz lifted his eyes from whatever he was looking at on his desk and smiled at her from across the room. She smiled back at him as she lazily sat up, the white sheets the only thing covering her body. 

She felt a little bit guilty for falling asleep while Fitz was showering her with kisses and caresses. It had all been fantastic and made her feel like she was a pagan goddess as he was adoring her body, but it had also been incredibly relaxing, and after their intense encounter in the forest, she had drifted off without even realizing it. Well, at least from the look on his face, he didn't seem to resent her for it. She looked around to find her clothes and saw them neatly piled on a chair, along with all the pins and fastenings he must have taken from her hair once she'd fallen asleep. There was also what looked like one of Fitz's shirt, this one a bright white, perfectly ironed and looking long enough to conserve her modesty, not that she really needed it. Her own clothes and complicated underwear didn't look really tempting when she felt so relaxed, so she stood up, blushing ridiculously under Fitz's gaze, and slipped on his shirt, closing the buttons as she walked towards him. The ground was a little cold under her feet so she hurried to get on the thick wooly carpet his desk was on. 

"Hello," she said, feeling a little shy somehow. This was all so new and strange. She knew her heart was beating louder when he was near but she didn't know what to say. 

"Hello," he replied, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her lips pulled into a wide smile. "Slept well?" 

She nodded. "Did I sleep long?" 

"About two hours."

"Oh! I'm sorry, you should have woken me up, I—"

"That's alright," he cut her off. "You looked really peaceful and very pretty sleeping. I would have gladly stayed with you but I couldn't sleep and my mind was buzzing with ideas!"

"Ideas about what? Oh…" That's when Jemma noticed Fitz wasn't in fact reading or watching anything but drawing them. "Fitz! Those are incredible, did you draw them all yourself?" 

He smiled a little shyly, his cheeks getting a little pink, and Jemma thought it looked absolutely charming on him. 

"Ah… yes. That's what I do," he said, turning a few of them around so she could see them better. There were mostly drawings of trains, some quite broad, some very detailed with a lot of notes and quotations. Here and there, Jemma also saw a few watercolor landscapes and one unfinished sketch of a sleeping woman who looked a lot like her. (she would ask about that later) 

"You design trains?" 

"Yes, mostly. But also other vehicles, trying to make them faster with more efficient engines, that sort of things." 

His tone was a little uncertain but she could see the pride in his eyes. She knew that feeling. It came from obtaining something not because your father paid a lot of money for you to get into the University, but because you worked hard to earn it. 

"That's wonderful, Fitz," she said sliding her hand behind his neck. "You must have studied for years to achieve this!"

His expression became more mischievous. 

"Ah yes, I managed to get into the University after all. See? I wasn't raised in the forest, I just prefer the company of trees and animals to humans." 

"All humans?" she asked, pouting.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down until she was sitting across his lap. 

"Some of them are less terrible I guess…" She bit her lip.

"And you're not as mean as you seemed to be," she replied before placing a quick peck on his lips.

"That's just the orgasms talking," he replied, and she chuckled as she felt her cheeks grow hot at the memories.

"Maybe," she replied with a tone as casual as she could muster. "Not completely though."

She looped both her arms around his neck and kissed him, slow and gently. The pressure of his lips on hers was light but it still sent a pleasant thrill through her body. One of his hands went up in her hair and she sighed contentedly. 

"I like your hair even better like that," he said against her lips. 

"All messy and tangled?" she asked, scrunching up her nose. 

"Wild and free!" he said, grinning happily. He really was one of a kind.

"So that's how you paid for such a beautiful house?" she asked, nodding towards his drawings. 

"Yeah, and the grounds around it!"

"Oh?" 

"Yes, all the way from the river to _that_ tree and about a quarter of a mile north of the house," he said, grinning as her eyes grew wide. 

"Oh… Wow… Could you make me a boat then?" 

"A boat?" 

"Yes. To go to Africa," she replied and he laughed.

"You know, you don't need to put that much distance between us," he replied, his expression teasing. He obviously meant it to be a joke but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice. 

"Fitz," she said, her tone growing more serious. "I don't know what we have or what we are to each other, it really is unexpected." She palmed his face, grazing the apple of his cheek with her thumb. "But I know I don't want it to end," she finished. He leaned into her hand. 

"Me neither…" he said softly. 

"I'd like to spend as much time with you here as possible until I have to go back to London in a few weeks."

"Oh." His face fell.

"I have to present my research and maybe apply for another grant. And then I'll probably have to come back here for more research." His lips pulled back into the most adorable child-like smile. "And then we can talk about that boat you're going to build for me!"

He laughed out loud this time. 

"I admit it would be really nice to see monkeys! Do you know they found a new species of monkeys who can do with his tail almost everything his hands can?" 

"I didn't know that, no," she replied with a fond smile as she took one of his hands in hers. He might just be the sweetest man she's ever met after all, she thought as she pressed a kiss to his knuckles. And he had the most wonderful hands. 

She stood up and turned around to face him. She smiled as he looked at her in slight confusion.

"In the meantime," she said, sitting back on his lap, this time with one leg on each side of his hips. "I'm very interested in what your hands can do!" 

He smiled widely as he wound his arms around her waist. "See? Wild and free!"

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always very much welcomed :)  
> You can also find me on Tumblr @agentofship


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